


Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch

by castielswinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:19:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielswinchesters/pseuds/castielswinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Next time you think your workplace is weird, please remember that my workplace has an annual tattoo night out, where we rent out a tattoo parlor, order pizza, play cards against humanity, and watch some of our coworkers get tattooed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch

Dean fucking hated Librarian Night. For 5 hours on a Thursday evening in August every year, his shop was full of drunken idiots, yelling at each other about literary cliches and playing cards, a few of them becoming bold enough to plop into the chair and request something, often a favorite line of a favorite book. That was fine, but five hours of obscure if beautiful prose did get dull. It did give him a chance to practice his font work, so he supposed there was a silver lining. As he cleaned up the gun from the most recent tattoo (“I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night” in a flowing cursive font on the ribcage of a beautiful redhead - Anna was her name, he thought), he heard another person plunk into the chair heavily. 

 

“Hey, I’m Dean -“ he began, but he was cut off when he turned to face the most incredibly hot librarian he’d ever seen, jaw snapping closed after it involuntarily opened. The dude was fucking gorgeous - mussed dark hair, a blue silk tie loose around his throat, fingers working the buttons of his white shirt carefully, methodically. The man looked up and smiled, and shit, that smile, and the eyes were the most piercing blue Dean had ever seen.

 

“Hello, Dean,” the man rumbled, his voice gravelly but sure and smooth. “My name is Castiel.” He looked expectantly at Dean, and somewhere inside his short-circuiting brain he realized that a reply was probably in order. 

 

“Alright, Cas-tee-el," he said, the name tripping over his tongue uncertainly, drawn out cheekily. ”What can I do for you this fine evening?” And then Dean’s mouth went completely dry as the man fluidly rolled the shirt off his shoulders, folding it neatly and setting it aside. And then he said something so insane that Dean’s focus snapped from the beautiful expanse of tan skin that was now exposed (he could think of quite a few things he'd like to do _to_ him this fine evening) - _damn it, Dean, think with your upstairs brain_ , his mind groans- to the eyes of the man in front of him, an incredulous eyebrow raised. 

 

“I’d like a tattoo of a bee.” 

 

“A bee?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel said firmly. “a bee. Maybe my lower back?” 

 

“You sure about this?” Dean asked, snapping gloves into place and turning on his stool to face the man sitting very seriously in the tattoo chair, a small smile on his face. "Drunk tattoos aren't always -"

 

“Yes, I am. I’m not quite as drunk as my colleagues, and I’ve wanted this particular tattoo for a while now.”

 

“Sober-ish you wants a bumblebee tattoo on your ass?” Dean smiled lightly, teasing the man.  

 

“Well, not quite. Sober-ish me wants a _honey_ bee tattoo on my lower back. You can tell me where you think looks best, though. As long as I can cover it with my work attire.”  

 

Dean’s hands skim Castiel’s back (totally professionally, of course) and come to rest right on his spine, between and slightly below where his shoulder blades flex. 

 

“Here,” he says. “It’s gonna look so nice right here.” 

 

“Okay,” Cas breathed, looking seriously into Dean’s eyes. “Let’s do it there.” 

 

“I have to warn you, man, this might hurt a bit.”

 

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll be fine,” Castiel replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. Dean dipped his chin in a brief nod - it wasn’t his job to police a stranger’s pain tolerance, and it really was the best spot for the tattoo. 

 

As Dean begins the tattoo, Cas hums to himself, waving a lazy hand in acknowledgement to the howling encouragement of his coworkers. 

 

“Atta boy, Cassie! I almost didn’t think you had the balls,” a smiling blonde man crowed while ostentatiously shuffling a deck of cards. 

 

“ _Cassie?_ ”

 

“Well, my name is a bit of a mouthful, and my coworkers improvised.” 

 

“Gotcha.” 

 

“I gotta admit, man, seems like Cas is a more logical choice than _Cassie_.” 

 

“Oh, I agree. So do my colleagues, when they’re sober. Balthazar is another story, though. Balth doesn’t believe propriety has a place in everyday life.”

 

“Must be fun to work with him,” Dean said lightly as the gun skated over Castiel’s spine, watching carefully to see if the man reacted poorly to the pain. All he got was a slight clenching and unclenching of a fist as Castiel continued to chat with him amiably, voice calm and pleasant. 

 

“Oh, it is. Are your coworkers pleasant to work with?” 

 

“They can be. Mostly. Thank God, man, because I couldn’t spend all day with coworkers that drive me crazy."

 

Castiel hummed his agreement, hands idly tracing a pattern on the leather of the chair, chin tucked over the back. As the two lapsed into a comfortable silence, Dean’s mind focused on the needle dancing fluidly over Castiel’s back, the honey bee design springing to life - an inky, stylized design that looked as though someone had freshly sketched it, surrounded by honeycombs. This is what Dean loved to do, and damn, did he do it well. Almost too soon, he was finishing the design and wiping the excess ink off Castiel’s back gently. 

 

“Alright, man, ready to see your ink?” 

 

“Absolutely,” Castiel grinned. “I’m sure you’ve done beautifully.” 

 

“Well, we’ll see about that. Turn around, take a look.” 

 

Cas’ mouth gaped open as he peered at the tattoo, and Dean hesitated until a small smile flickered across his face, then flushed with pride. 

 

“Can I - uh, can I take a picture of the tattoo? For my portfolio?”

 

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replied warmly. “This is so lovely. People should see what you’ve created.” 

 

Dean smiled and snapped a quick picture, darting a quick glance at Castiel who was smiling right back. Once Dean met his gaze, he could hardly look away until explosive laughter from the rowdy librarians diverted his attention. Clearing his throat, Dean turned to his table to grab the wrap for Cas’ tattoo. While he wrapped the tattoo and handed Cas a tube of their special salve, explaining how to care for his new ink, he couldn’t help but notice that Castiel kept flicking glances his way as he fiddled with the tube of salve. Heading behind the counter, Dean hastily grabbed a company card and flipped it over, scribbling his number on the back. When he made Castiel’s change, he slid the card over, number side down. 

 

“So, uh - here’s the number for the shop, in case you have any questions on care or anything like that.”

 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said quietly. The flicker of disappointment on his face gave Dean a boost of courage, and he flipped the card, winking at Cas. 

 

“And here’s _my_ number, in case you’d like a personal consult,” he said, watching Cas with a small smile and getting one in return as Cas placed a hand over his, sliding his fingers over Dean's as he picked up the card. 

 

“I’d like that.” 

 

“Me too, Cas. Me too.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, Dean receives a call from an unknown number as he's in the middle of trying to organize his new shipment of inks. He flips the phone to speaker mode and sets it on the countertop next to him, pulling a box forward and flipping through his inventory sheet.  


"Hello?" he says brusquely, slicing open the box and flipping open the lid. 

 

"Hello, Dean," a gravelly voice replies, and Dean sits back with a smile, dropping the box cutter and leaning against the wall.

 

"Heya, Cas. How's that honey bee tramp stamp healing up?"

 

"It's healing well... but I think that personal consult would be well advised." 

 

"Anything for a client." Dean says, smiling. "How about tonight?" 

 

He saves Castiel's number as _Honey Bee_.

 

* * *

 

 

**EPILOGUE - THREE YEARS LATER**

 

“ _Sugar pie, honey bunch, you know that I love you! I can’t help myself - I love you and nobody else._ ” Dean crooned in his husband’s ear, smiling as his hands ghosted across Castiel’s back as they danced, surrounded by their friends and family. 

 

Castiel smiled against Dean’s cheek, pressing himself closer to his new husband. He was so damn gland he’d worked up the courage to get that tattoo. 

 

> _Sugar pie honey bunch_  
>  You know that I'm waiting for you (waiting for you)  
>  _I can't help myself_  
>  _I love you and nobody else_
> 
> This is the version I imagine at their wedding - [[X](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRckQySV5c4)]

 

 

 


End file.
